


Flirting with Death

by SumDumMuffin



Category: RWBY
Genre: Age Difference Double Reacharound, Alternate Universe - Magic, BDSM, Developing Relationship, F/F, Familiars, Fantasy kitchen sink, Master/Pet, Mommy Issues, Philosophy, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumDumMuffin/pseuds/SumDumMuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reclusive wizard Glynda Goodwitch gets a new familiar, who is a little confused as to what familiars actually do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> The named characters in this fic are creations of Rooster Teeth and the resplendent Monty Oum, may he rest in peace. 
> 
>  
> 
> I guarantee no expertise in anything! Ahahahaha.  
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This is not how BDSM contracts work in real life, and not just because magic isn't real. BDSM is based around communication. Romantic comedies, in contrast, are based around miscommunication.

Glynda coughed, doubled over. She swatted at the magical smoke in the air. 

“Well, that didn't work as planned," she said to herself. 

Glynda stood up and pressed her palms into the small of her back as she stretched. She inhaled deeply; something didn't smell right, and it wasn't just because of the dust from the explosion.

And then Glynda realized-

Her own body was at lying at her feet. Her glasses were askew off the edge of her nose and her hair was singed in some places and splayed out amoung bits of broken beakers.

And she had a large gash in her side. There was actually a fair amount of blood, oozing into an expanding black puddle. 

Glynda re-examined her surroundings. 

Her workshop - the entire world, actually-  looked different, like she was looking through a sepeia tone filter. The single small window revealed a sickly twilight sky and there was a strange taste to the air- almost but not quite like the metallic taste you got when having a nosebleed. The air felt thicker and her ears were buzzing- though that might have been a side-effect of the explosion, or her own subconscious existential dread- 

Glynda tried to pat a nearby table. Her hand phased right through it. 

Huh. So this was what the spirit world was like. Maybe she'd have some time to explore it a little, test out its physics, see if she could maybe conjure a portal back to the material plane- 

And, Glynda realized, when she glanced over her workshop again, there was, standing amid the wreckage, a robed figure with a wicked scythe that hurt to look at, leaned against its left side. It wore red robes- red that seemed immune to the monochrome filter that pervaded the rest of the world- and the robes were constantly dripping blood, only on closer inspection the blood-drops seemed to peel away into rose petals in a breeze that didn't exist for anyone else. Rosedrops would fall onto ambient objects and stain them with wet crimson fractals for about three seconds. 

Glynda Goodwitch. The words came from a halllow voice, like grimmdust and nostalgic guitar riffs, echoing in a part of Glynda's ears that weren't her ears. 

"That's me," Glynda said, tentatively. "Am- am I dead?" 

Yes. The figure nodded.

“Oh. Well, that just won't do." Glynda looked around some more. Maybe some of her reagents had spirit properties that she could interact with while incorporeal. 

I'm afraid you must accept that you are dead,  The figure made a throat-clearing sound.  I am the psychopomp assigned to your case. If you would allow me to escort you to the river Styx, we can review your files on the way. The entity swirled the air and a leather-bound tome appeared in midair, falling into the reaper's outstretched, bloody hand. We can sort out what kind of afterlife you qualify for and resolve any unresolved karmic debts. 

“Actually,” Glynda said, “I think I'll stick around, if it's all the same." 

The figure paused.  What? It coughed, somehow. You- you can't do that.

Glynda snapped her fingers and a small spark of flame appeared at her fingertip. She snapped her fingers again and it dissipated. So she still could use magic here. That opened up some possibilities-

But the psychopomp seemed to have other ideas. It stepped in front of Glynda and tried to gesture with its limbs. The figure was, from up close, quite a bit shorter than Glynda had first imagined.

Glynda's hand darted out, into the robes where she imagined a head might be- 

She felt something that felt a little like flesh, albeit a little colder, a little tingly on her magic senses.

Glynda pulled her hand up, and the psychopomp's hood fell back behind her head. It turned out, this version of the embodiment of death was humanoid. 

Specifically, she resembled a young girl, though this was almost certainly one of the cases in which looks were misleading. She had brilliant silver eyes that seemed to quiver under Glynda's gaze- actually, her whole body seemed to be quivering. The psychopomp had inhaled sharply when Glynda reached out and gripped her chin. The entity seemed to be trying- and failing- to stay very still. 

The next thing Glynda noticed was that the entity had short, straight dark hair that gradient-ed to crimson at the tips. A little like the robes, but her hair didn't hemorrhage rosebloods. It looked kind of soft, actually; Glynda was reminded of spectographs she'd seen of the resident goblin king's lovingly feathered technicolor hair.

Well, Glynda was a scientist at heart, so she tested the hypothesis. 

The psychopomp squeaked when Glynda started petting her head. Glynda had concluded that the eldritch entity's hair was, indeed, quite soft.

Glynda brushed her thumb along the creature's lips, (her hand was already on her chin). The entity had teeth like candy coated tombstones- 

And the ethereal bloody rose petals might have been real, because she could smell them; they smelled like corporeal smells, rather than the monochrome formaldehyde that had clogged her senses when she awoke.

Glynda leaned in and audibly sniffed the reaper's head. She did smell like roses, but Glynda only got one good sniff in because the act seemed to cross the line; the psychopomp squeaked again- louder this time- and stepped back and flailed her free arm. 

"Are you a spirit?" Glynda asked, "You don't feel like one." 

"I-I'm not," said the not-spirit. Her voice sounded more like a human, now. "Not entirely-" 

"I though most psychopomps were personifications of a noospherical concept of death as interpreted by a regional culture, usually via an animal or a skeleton or and old person or a combination of the above."

"Well, yeah, most of them-" 

"So you're not an embodiment of death?"

The girl puffed out her cheek and furrowed her brow. "I _am_  an embodiment of death. Just- just not a senior-level one. Yet." 

Glynda rubbed her chin and nodded, sagely. "So that's why you're so eager to escort me to the afterlife."

The girl smiled and nodded, excitedly. "Yeah! It'll really look good on my record, ferrying a real wizard. So you'll let me help you out here?" 

"Help me die?" Glynda pretended to think about it. "I'm gonna say 'nooooo'." 

Glynda ignored the reaper's response and then lay down, phasing through herself, aligning herself with her body. She closed her eyes and focused on herself, on her and tried to planeshift. 

Glynda awoke with a gasp. A very, very painful gasp. Her back was wet- with her own blood, she'd realize after a moment, and then she'd berate herself for not realizing it at once- and her forehead felt a little burnt. But she was back in her workshop in the regular world: the colors worked again and the twilight sunrays didn't look undead and the air smelled breathable. 

And, as it turned out, lethal injuries hurt _a lot_. Who knew?

Glynda cast a few healing spells- including a blood replenishing one- on herself as she lay down and let her blood congeal. After a moment, the pain subsided just a bit and Glynda managed to stand up- well, get on her feet, as long as she hunched over and devoted her left arm to clutching her midriff. She stumbled towards a far shelf, stepping over strewn books and broken beakers. It was late evening now- she'd been out of it for a while, and the singular window out of the cobblestone dungeon let in just enough light to let her maneuver to the shelf.

But, in an embarrassing lack of foresight, Glynda had put the first-aid kit on the top of the shelf, and, while doubled over, Glynda had to strain and aggravate her stomach wound and, still, she didn't quite reach-

A pale hand reached up and handed the box to Glynda. 

Glynda blinked at the psychopomp. "T-thanks." 

In the corporal plane, the psychopomp looked a lot less poetic, though it was probably partially because she had awkwardly climbed on a desk in order to be tall enough to reach the top of the shelf. Her cloak wasn't dripping blood and her scythe was clean and didn't scream in her mind when Glynda glanced along its blade, but her eyes were still brilliant and her hair still feathery. She did look a little more human, here. 

Glynda pulled out a sixpack of chillstabs and injected her flesh wound and processed that an extra-planar entity had just materialized past the wards in her study. Maybe they were damaged in the explosion? But there was a more pressing matter-

“You're here to drag me back to the underworld?” Glynda said, her voice perfectly calm. 

“I-” The figure bit her lower lip. The motion had no right to look so adorable. “I was hoping I could maybe persuade you? I had your file up and everything- oh here, let me help with that-" 

Glynda froze as the figure helped wrap a bandage around her stomach. Glynda finished tending the main wound- she idly wondered how late the stitch doctor was open- but, again, she had a slightly more urgent problem. 

"Thanks," Glynda gestured to a nearby shelf. "Can you hand me that chalk up there?"

The psychopomp turned to the shelf. “I mean, “ she said as she searched, "Death gives meaning to life, right? The juxtaposition of life and death and all- so it's not really a big deal if you die-" 

“I'm going to have to disagree with you there,” Glynda said. She inhaled and let the synthetic endorphins sooth the pain away. “The _fear_ of death gives meaning to life; it motivates people to do something with their life. It's the ultimate deadline, is what it is. Deadlines make one more productive, but every procrastinator just wishes they could get an extension."

"But the motivation to make something that will last beyond life is a big reason people make and discover things," said the psychopomp, "You want to face death with an accomplishment you can both be proud of." 

"Yeah, I'll give you that," Glynda said. She gathered up some herbs and dust and started mixing a bottle of potion. “But there's even more greatness born from people trying to forestall death. That's how we got our polio vaccines and our flushing toilets and our fad diets." Glynda smirked. The pychopomp didn't laugh, though. Glynda was only a little disappointed.

"Ah- well, how about I put it this way." The psychopomp fidgeted and gestured, wildly, "Everyone dies. It's just something you can't run away from. Even if you don't like it, you have to find a way to cope. And- now's the time, for you, and you have to learn how to cope." 

"I have a way of coping," Glynda said. She accepted the packet of chalk from the entity. "I'm opting out. Also, could you help sweep the floor, real quick?" Glynda gestured at the broom closet. 

"But-" The girl puffed out her cheek but made her way to the closet, swapping her scythe for a broom. "What about everyone else who can't just opt out?" 

"Sucks to be them," Glynda said. She caught the scandalized expression on the psychopomp, so she held her free palm up and backtracked. "Okay, I meant that just because bad things happen, and happen inevitably to some people, doesn't mean I should just let those things happen to me. The fact that death happens to most people doesn't make it  _right._ " 

The reaper paused after the first sweep. "But death is part of a natural process-"

"Oh, don't give me that." Glynda carefully dropped to the floor. She pulled out the chalk and started scribbling on the wooden boards. "There's trees and bacteria that don't die, so death isn't natural for everything," Glynda said, “Death arose because some organisms found they could make their offspring more efficient in the environment then they were, and they programmed themselves to die so they wouldn't use up resources their more efficient offspring could use. Just because it's natural doesn't make it  _right_ , in all cases." 

The girl audiblely sighed, angrily. She had finished sweeping glass off the floor and had retrieved her scythe and pulled her hood over her head- though not so much as to conceal her face.

"You're- you're just afraid. It's okay. Everyone is afraid of things, or doesn't see the big picture, or has, you know, little fits about things they don't realize they need," The pyschopomp trailed off, "But it's really best if you just go with it. And I can help ease you into things- that's my job, actually- and I pride myself on it-"

Glynda paused what she was doing. She made eye contact and she shot a grim smile at the grim spectre, who looked like she was about to cry.

“I am afraid of death, yeah," Glynda said, "But that's because it turns out that, evolutionary, not wanting to die is selected for." Glynda pontificated. “Ofspring who are born that do want to die take themselves out of the gene pool, mostly before they reproduce, thus leaving the remaining population with a predisposition to life." Glynda refreshed her smile. "So if I'm afraid, it's because fear of death was useful to a pack of apes a squillion years ago, not because Death is actually scary." 

The pyschopomp seemed to consider the words, for a while. The next time she spoke, she was more deliberate.

"A lot of people die before their time,” the psychopomp said, "Think of it as the next great journey. Nothing ever happens when you want it to, so you just have to go for it when it occurs-"

“Well why? Why can't anything happen the way I want them to?"

“I mean- it's not that things  _can't_  go your way. But you don't have control over everything, and sometimes things happen that aren't the best." 

Glynda frowned and widened her eyes. She charged her hand with energy. It hurt a little more than it normally did, as the increased etheric flow seemed to be harder on her body. Maybe it was the 'recently returning to life' thing. 

Well, she managed to channel enough for her purposes, discreetly. She attempted to climb back up to her feet and accepted the extraplaner being's help in righting herself. 

And since she was already in close quarters with her, Glynda put her hands on the psychopomp's shoulders. “That just means I have to try harder, so I can control what matters to me. It's why I study magic, actually." Glynda's expression softened. "Can I get you to stand - here-, please?" 

The psychopomp allowed herself to be moved onto a specifoc spot on the floor. “Okay, but-"

And then Glynda pulled the potion out of her hiding place and smashed it on the ground, the magical combustion activating the binding circle. Glynda jumped back (and winced in pain) as irigo mist flickered in a cylinder around the reaper.

The entity turned to face Glynda, her mouth a thin, annoyed and slightly bemused line. 

“Haha,” Glynda said, wiping her brow, “Now you're trapped."

The figure smirked. “To what end?" 

“We make a deal. You never come back to claim my soul.” Glynda cogitated. “And you don't pass your contract on to other psychopomps, or appeal this verbal contract to the demon lawyers, or in other ways try to drag or summon or get my soul or any part of me to the underworld."

The psychopomp puffed out her cheek. “You can't get rid of me _that_ easy." 

Glynda flattened her mouth and tried to look intimidating. “I can torture you in there, you know.”

The girl twitched and tilted her head down, wringing her hands. “Bribe refused.”

 Glynda puffed out her cheek. "Well, I'll let you stew in there, then." 

 

 

 

Glynda ducked into her storage room to find a magically binding contract scroll. She didn't have the energy (nor the time) to scribe one from scratch, because who knew how long that hasty binding would hold an actual embodiment of death (even a junior-level one). 

And, as it turned out, Glynda had exactly one magical scroll ready to be rewritten. One for binding a familiar, that she'd received upon getting certified, ages ago. She held it in her hand and stared at it.

Wizards had familiars, both because it was tradition and because, most of the time, it made logical sense. Actually, it was probably tradition _because_ it was rather convenient to have a magical servant to run errands or stand in front of you when you were working with reagents that might explode. Wizards typically bound a magical creature as a servant, though Glynda hadn't contracted a familiar yet, so she still had the complimentary scroll she'd gotten all those years ago when she'd graduated. 

But anyway, now Glynda had a magically binding contract scroll. She could rewrite some of the clauses to ensure her soul was protected.

Well, the alternative was leaving a loose end that had a vested interest in taking her soul. And she could always buy another binding scroll. This really wasn't as big a deal as her gut made it out to be. This wasn't actually her giving up on being a normal wizard with a normal familar because she'd been stupid and blew herself up.

Anyway. The binding contract was between two willing parties- but many wizards bound demons or chaos lords or other deceptive eldritch beings for short periods of time to achieve short-term or very ambitious goals. The demons and things would be pressured into it, yes, but the understanding was that both parties were out to screw each other over as much as possible. It wasn't exactly something Glynda thought she was the kind of wizard to do.

But Glynda wasn't trying to steal this particular entity's power or take over the world or anything. She'd just add something about all the familiar parts of the contract being non-binding and add to the binding spells a clause about her soul not being forfeit in any circumstance. 

And it'd be soooo much less wasteful if she just had a blank scroll to write this on but Glynda had to work with what she had. The realization that she'd died and had almost been harvested was beginning to sink into her gut. 

 

 

 

When Glynda walked back up the stairs, the psychopomp was experimentally poking the barrier wither her pointer finger. Irigo lightning would cackle into whatever extremity she pushed against it, but the barrier would dim noticeably upon every prod. The circle might not last much longer, so Glynda had to work quickly. 

Glynda forced a smile. "Hey, look. I know you have to think highly of death and all, but it's just Stockholm Syndrome. If nobody had to die, nobody would. I'm in that camp. So I'm sorry, but I probably have to be your enemy."  

Glynda held out the scroll, halfway through the barrier. That was part of the enchantments on the scroll, that it could pass through a binding circle. "Here,” Glynda said, “I know it's a little unorthodox, but I need some magically binding assurance you're not just going to harvest me the moment I fall asleep. So if you want out of the circle-"

The girl looked over the contract and then started blushing.

“You,” breathed the psychopomp, “Want to be my mistress?”

“I- “ Glynda began, "It was originally a familiar contract, yes, but-" 

“Oh wow." The eldritch entity clutched her reddening cheeks. "Um. This is – this is so sudden, and we did just meet, but – Yes! Yes, I accept.” 

The girl suppressed some giggles. "You missed a couple important things though." She procured a quill pen from nowhere and scribbled on the contract. Glynda wanted to say that she shouldn't have been able to do that, but she couldn't quite remember exactly what laws of magic the entity was breaking.

The psychopomp handed the scroll back to Glynda. "If there's anything you want changed, hand it back. Otherwise, I'm fine with it as it is...." 

Glynda looked over it- There were a few changes; something about a 'safeword', and about health issues and allergies and the section about expected duties of the familiar had been expanded, and there was a bit about renegotiating the contract in two weeks since they'd just met and it wasn't sure if they were compatible. 

Glynda saw the psychopomp had signed her name; Ruby Rose. Huh. Not what she'd expected. 

"Umm," Glynda said. The girl was staring at her expectantly, bright-eyed. 

So maybe the psychopomp didn't realize that the main thing was the part about not stealing her soul. That section was unaltered, so Glynda probably should just sign it now to protect her soul and think of something later? 

So Glynda did. The psychopomp seemed to literally float in elation. 

Glynda was about to say something about maybe it might be nice to have a familiar for a while too, but then the entity pressed her scythe into the barrier, shattering it like sugarglass in a cascade of glinting irigo runes that imploded in the air. 

Glynda blinked and opened her mouth.

Ruby skipped forward and-

She leaned up on the tips of her toes and planted a smooch on Glynda's cheek.

“I'll be here tomorrow, ok? I just gotta make some preparations-"

Ruby tapped the bottom of her scythe on the ground and bloody rosepetals swirled around the psychopomp, and Ruby waved and smiled one more time as she dissapeared in the vortex.

Glynda blinked a couple times as she touched her cheek with the tips of two of her fingers. Her face felt hot. 

“Uh,” Glynda said, out-loud, “What?”

 

 


	2. Sinbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate, slightly misleading fic descriptor; 'when confronted with her own death, wizard Glynda Goodwitch instead says, "fuck that."'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic is now rated M. I wonder how long it will take to be rated 'E'. But for seriously, I think this will end up being a look at long term BDSM relationship (like I'm qualified to write that, ahahaha), and we'll get to Ruby and Glynda talking about their feelings and going on dates and making fantasy world jokes (Do people like this AU so far?) and occasionally the more sexy stuff. 
> 
> First time posting this kind of writing. So I'll put the 'I have no idea what I'm doing' disclaimer here. I guarantee no expertise in BDSM, philosophy, crafting, houses, breakfast, spanking, mythology, or smut. 
> 
> And since I'm better at writing people talking about their feelings, I expect the next update should happen sooner than this one did.
> 
> EDIT: first typo purge complete.

Glynda awoke. She started a theatrical yawn but her side wound still hurt. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with balled fists and drearily smacked her mouth a few times. Since she closed her shop today, she'd been able to sleep in, and even though it was a bedrest kind of sleeping in, she was determined to enjoy it, because who knew how long it would be until she had another one of these sorts of days.

Glynda’s room was in the tower above her store. She went in here to sleep and to bind books, There was some sort of logic, as much as could be from an organization system built in ad-hoc portions over the course of several years; her reagent supply and her potionmaking were in the basement, for example, but a lot of her workshops and studies occupied random unused areas in the building, so, for example, she had her bookbinding setup in her room. Glynda wasn’t supposed to work today, but she could get a head start on some of the more mundane tasks-

And Glynda saw there was an entity In her bedroom.

Glynda flinched back, bunching up the covers around her. Not the most useful of actions she'd later think. She was wearing a nightgown, so she didn't have to preserve her modesty, and she actually ought to have charged a spell or reached for a weapon, if she was actually trying to defend herself from some sort of intruder. 

“Good morning, mistress!” said the eldritch entity from yesterday- Ruby, was it?

Glynda scrabbled for her glasses and slapped them on her face.

Ruby was-

Ruby was wearing a maid's uniform. It was black and white with red lace around the collar and the sleeves and the rather short hemline- revealing a few centimeters of creamy thighs atop the lace of her tall socks. 

Looking back up, Glynda saw Ruby's waist, bound in a black underbust corset, tied with red string in bows along the midline. The outfit was loose around the breast area, and Ruby wasn't, so to say, _ _unendowed__ , and the looseness didn't hide that fact; the two black buttons strained a bit, and her breasts curved out the sides of the white coverings. The outfit had frills around the shoulders and long sleeves, and a high neckline.

As this appraisal continued into what was probably an uncomfortable amount of time Ruby wavered under the stare, rocking back and forth. Glynda’s heart seemed to be working overtime. 

Glynda shook her head, quickly, twice, and tried to make mature eye contact. “Is that-” she said, lamely, “Is that a maids uniform?”

Ruby nodded, her mouth in a sheepish smile.  “It's glamered, so I can change it if you want...”

Ruby tapped a corner of cloth and the spell-matrix scintillated into the visible spectrum. She tapped a few runes and her outfit glowed along the angles.

“I can do a schoolgirl,” Ruby said. "Or a nun, or a demon, or a space captain, or a nurse-," Ruby paused and cogitated, which involved biting her lower lip and looking at the ceiling and rocking on the balls of her feet, "Maybe the nurse would have been more appropriate? Anyway, i can change it, but it takes an hour to recharge, so if you want, you need to tell me now..."

Glynda blinked.

"I mean!" Ruby waved her hands in front of her, "Not that you  _ _need__  to make up your mind right now, but if you don't like the maid one, you should let me know as soon as possible, so I can change, and then if you don’t like your second choice, you can run out the timer on it as soon as possible."

Glynda blinked again.

“N-not that I need to tell you how to optimize anything, because it’s simple math, - and not that you need to value efficiency or anything! I – um.” Ruby managed to stutter.

Glynda blinked some more.

“Ummmmm,” Ruby said, and she seemed a little worried at this point, “So, what do you want me to do?”

“Is,” Glynda said, cautiously, “Is this a fetish thing?”

The entity nodded. “Well, it can be, yes, but even if- even if you you’re not actively using me, I want you to have something nice to look at….”

Glynda coughed and adjusted her glasses and blushed at the wall.

“’Maid’ is fine,” Glynda said, weakly. Well, it- the uniform, she meant- it _was_ nice to look at; the craftsmanship of the outfit was decent (not that Glynda knew anything about stitching), but for some reason, her eyes kept darting to the portion of Ruby’s thighs between the top of her socks and the hem of her skirt. That really had nothing to do with the craftsmanship of the outfit itself. Why was she so fixated on that again?-

Glynda shook her head, and then regretted it when the increased bloodflow set her stomach wound throbbing. 

Yesterday, after Ruby left the corporeal plane, Glynda had  gotten the strength to visit a stitch doctor and get her condition stabilized. She was to get as much rest as possible, so she put out a sign on the front saying the workshop was closed, for today and maybe tomorrow, as she recovered.

And Glynda remembered lying back in bed and trying to ignore her aching wound and then falling asleep. She was pretty sure she didn’t have any conversation with Ruby-

Wait, now that Glynda dwelled on it, Ruby mentioned she’d be by today. Huh. Well, Glynda hadn’t redrawn the protective wards, so whatever plane-shifting that allowed the eldrich reaper to materialize in her workshop still worked, obviously. Maybe that’d be on the agenda for today, and Glynda could work out an exception for Ruby? Was Ruby going to be here every day?

Glynda thought that maybe she should have examined that contract they’d signed a little more closely.

Well, there was an obvious course of action, if she wanted to know what Ruby was doing here.

“So, um,” Glynda said, cautiously, “You’re here. In my house.”

“Yeah,” Ruby smiled a closed-mouth smile and nodded enthusiastically, “I took the day off today, since it’s our first day together. I saw you closed your shop, so I guess you don't have anything to do? Or maybe it's just not open at the moment. I’m ready to do anything you want." 

“Because,” Glynda ventured, “You’re now my familiar.”

Ruby smiled knowingly. “If that’s what you want to call it. Yes.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A familiar: a magical assistant. Yeah. Glynda’d been lax on having one (And, from what she’d gathered, many of them didn’t tend to stay very long, so Glynda had convinced herself there was no point in contracting out an imp or something if it was just going to leave after a year or two). Some wizards bound powerful demons or chaos lords or some other sort of entity that might be able to offer insight to their craft, rather than just helping them out with mixing potions. Which category did a psychopomp fall into?

And, in the case of those demons and chaos lords, they usually wanted something in return. Her soul, perhaps, and maybe that was why Ruby Rose had agreed? But, there was another, more glaringly obvious reason why Ruby had agreed.

Glynda touched her cheek, where Ruby had smooched her the previous night.

“Umm,” Glynda said, “About that kiss-"

“Oh,” Ruby said, to the ground. She refreshed her smile and made eye contact. “Yeah, I know we're supposed to sit down for brunch at a coffeehouse or something and pull out our our lists and our spreadsheets and plan our futures-”

“Um, spreadsheets?” Glynda interrupted. She bit her lip and hoped she wasn’t being rude.

Ruby smirked a little. “Oh, not everyone uses spreadsheets, but I have this one Jotun friend- she’s in the scene too- but she likes to keep her ‘wills’ and ‘wont’s’ and ‘maybe's' organized with a time-line and a schedule. It was a compatibility thing, and she eventually got into an LTR with a nice domme who dated my sister but that’s getting into things-"

Ruby took a breath. “Anyway, I know even if it’s not actually with spreadsheets, the whole getting together and talking about our interests and needs is what we should be doing- and we will! I promise, I’m going to be responsible with this, but-” Ruby inhaled, deeply, and her nose twitched and her eyes almost watered, “That’s just not _romantic,_ you know? It’s just, I’ve wanted a mistress for so long and-”

Ruby smirked at the wall and her arms relaxed at her side. “And I shouldn’t expect it to be perfect, the first time, without talking it through. I know how unlikely it is- to just meet someone randomly at the agora or the registration office or while you’re doing errands at your job, and then it turns out that, hey, not only is she beautiful and smart and funny but we have the same fetish on top of it too- but I figured, hey, one of these centuries, I’ve got to encounter a million strangers, and then the one in a million should be statistically probable, you know?”

Ruby held her palms out and bobbed her head. “And I know it’s not going to be all natural and spontaneous and we're not going to psionically know everything the other wants, but, maybe, can we pretend that it works like that, just for a day?” Ruby turned to Glynda, her brilliant silver eyes wide and pleading. She bit her lower lip. “I can be your servant, and you can be my mistress, and I promise I'll take you to brunch sometime and we can get into the paperwork and the life planning, but can we pretend, just for today, that this went like the storybook perfect meet cute?”

Glynda blinked and processed Ruby’s words.

A servant? How comfortable was she ordering around an eldritch horror?

But she could tell that Ruby wasn’t lying; she really did want- want to be a servant, to have a mistress. (Glynda always wondered if most familiars were willing- there was a certain type of personality that was like that, yes?- it made the whole institution less problematic, if so.)

And then there was the romance- Glynda didn’t know _what_ she thought of that- she hadn’t been in a lot of relationships, she’d kissed her female roommate in school, once, as a ‘joke’, but Glynda hadn’t ever felt the need to go beyond that – with anyone, even. Growing up, she'd heard a lot of insufferable professionals joke that they were married to their work, and Glynda had, as time went on, contemplated repeating those jokes. They were funny because they were true.

Glynda swallowed. “Yeah, okay. You just- just want me to order you around?”

Ruby nodded and smiled a sheepish smile.

Glynda adjusted her glasses. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that.“ She pointed to a corner, “Fetch my crutch.”

Ruby nodded and diligently fetched Glynda’s crutch. It was convenient, Glynda decided, to have a serveant, and it totally didn’t give her a dangerous delusion of power, ordering Ruby around. Nope.

Anyway, even with the crutch, walking was infuriatingly slow. Ruby helped Glynda when and where her mistress needed it, and sometimes when she didn’t need it.

“And I, uh,” Ruby said at some point. She tilted her head down and looked up with her eyes. “I made you some mortal breakfast.”

“You mean,” Glynda said, slowly, “that you made breakfast for mortals, or the breakfast itself is mortal?”

“Both! I think. You should be able to kill it with your mortal stomach enzymes.” Ruby twittered for a moment. “That’s how it works, right?” She sounded genuinely unsure.

Glynda covered her mouth with her fingertips and stifled a chuckle. “Not technically, but close enough. Let’s go have a look, shall we?“

 

 

 

 

So Glynda made her way down into her dining room. Some of the clutter was shifted to the sifr, but not too drastically, and there was a tray of mortal breakfast on the crooked wooden table, amid stacks of parchment and glass jars of reagents.

Ruby’s breakfast was an omelette (with eggs from corporeal chickens), and some plum juice (from spirit world fruit, but they were consumable by humans- people were breaking into the celestial orchard all the time to steal from them), and some toast (transmuted from bread, by way of fire magic).

Glynda relayed that she could, indeed, murder an omlette. Then she explained, to the best of her own shaky understanding, the nomenclature of ‘murdering’ your meals.

Ruby waited next to the table, her hands clasped in front of her, doing this twisting-side to side motion. Glynda turned her head, suddenly, once, and Ruby squeaked and stood stock still.

Glynda finished the breakfast and complimented the chef. The chef blushed. Then Ruby played the waitress, and Glynda took a moment to rest and sneak some glances at Ruby's figure. 

"So,“ Ruby said, “Is there something you’d like me to do?”

Glynda leaned back in her chair. “So the stitcher doesn’t want me doing magic today, which rules out working on my enchantment commissions. But I can get them ready, for when I’m healed- lay out the books and the reagents and whatnot. I’m not sure how much that would help me, but I don't just want to sit around all day. I can also mix potions, as long as they don’t require me to imbue them.”

“Oh, okay,” Ruby said. “You run a magic shop? I admit I’m not too familiar with how that works."

Glynda leaned back and relaxed. “I do enchanting and potionmaking, mostly. I also scribe books- spellbooks is the intention-, but there’s not a lot of demand for that, so right now I’m doing some illustrated fairy tails for a baker who wants to diversify her portfolio.”

Glynda found she rather liked having someone to explain her work too, and Ruby was an excellent listener.

“And what do you do for fun?” Ruby said that last word a little strangely.

Glynda cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. “I guess I was into cards, back in school. Chatting about philosophy, sampling cheap wine. I'm still in touch with a couple of my friends from back then.”

“Are you into music?" 

“I don’t play any instrument, but yes, when the bards are in town, I see them perform with friends and such." 

Ruby smiled again. “Okay, cool.” She ran her hand through her hair. “I might have something to show you, sometime.”

“And, uh,” Glynda cleared her throat, “What about you? You’re a psychopomp?”

“Yeah.” Ruby's smile wavered, for just a moment. 

“I, uh,” Glynda coughed again, “I admit there’s a symmetry to our unfamiliarity. What’s- what’s that like?"

Ruby shrugged. “It’s sort of a family business. I’m not too passionate about it, but I get to meet a lot of people, and a lot of my coworkers are cool.” Ruby then refreshed her smile- her twittering, adorable, nervous smile, and the implication that she was eager to please Glynda.

"And, I guess, I’ll ask the same question; what do you do for fun?" 

Ruby smiled. “Weaponsmithing, actually,” Ruby said, “And you mentioned you had a forge?"

“Well, a rune forge. It doesn't melt metal or anything, but maybe you can find some other way to show me your hobby?" 

Ruby smiled. "Yeah, that'd be cool." 

"Yeah."

And Glynda ran out of things to say.

Ruby coughed. "So, um," She said, tittering adorably, again, "What did you want to do for the rest of the day?" 

Glynda thought for a moment. "Well, one of the reasons I wanted a familiar was to run errands for me and help me with my work, so, if you don't think it'll be too boring- I really enjoy it, but I know other people might not- do you think you'd like to help me work?" 

Ruby perked up. “I can do that!” she leaned forward and wiggled.

"Y-yes, Okay."

Glynda scootched the chair back.  Ruby handed Glynda her crutch. She helped her mistress to her feet and led her into the rest of the day. 

 

 

 

It was nice, actually. The whole day; Ruby left for a little while to the market, as Glynda couldn't walk that far, returning with some crushed gems and magical animal pieces and some stuff from het personal collection. Pyschopomps, it turned out, had the opportunity to harvest and/or steal a lot of rare and/or strange things from those they harvested, and so many of them were hoarders, on soon some level.

And then Ruby helped Glynda sort components and cut pieces of wood and metal and fetch different jars of magical essence.  Throughout the day, Ruby kept bending over to show off her thighs or, on one occasion, the bottom of her panties-

Glynda didn't really know why that was so- so mind-consuming, the sight of Ruby's -erhm- bottom peaking out under her hemline. Everyone had butts, and they were just, like, hemispheres of sabacous tissue. So Glynda didn't really have a rational reason to be obsessing about them- or one of them in particular. So she decided to not obsess oover Ruby's butt.

Turns out, rationally deciding not to obsess over something didn't work. 

 

 

 

At one point, Glynda asked for tea. Ruby jumped to the occasion. When she returned, with a full setup- tray and plate and kettle and everything- (Did Glynda even have a tea tray? Oh, right- Ozpin had given one to her as a gift. This was the first time she could remember using it. ) Ruby kneeled before her mistress, presenting the tray outstretch with a little bit of a smile and a blush.

"Your tea, Mistress," Ruby said. And she spoke a little more confidently here. Glynda concluded that Ruby had practiced this part; maybe this was a normal part of being a familiar? 

Glynda, however, hadn't practiced receiving tea from a kneeling servant. "Y-yes. Okay." 

 

 

 

 

 

And then it was the end of the day. 

“Umm,” Glynda rubbed he back of her head.

She still didn’t want to die. So at some point, she’d probably end up arguing with this embodiment of death about the necessity of death, and she'd have to convince some centuries-old entity to rethink her views, so that Glynda wouldn't get dragged down to the underworld. 

But, maybe she could put that off, for just a day. Ruby wanted this to be a nice, uh, _romantic_ first day? First date? And though they had some nice talks and a few physical interactions, it wasn't what Glynda really considered to be a first date. Though, of course, Glynda didn't really have a benchmark for  _any_ kind of date, first or no. 

“So, umm,” Glynda said, “The day is nearly over. Was there anything you wanted to do?”

“Oh, no,” Ruby looked aghast; her eyes went wide and she brought her palms in front of her, “I am happy as long as you are happy, and if that means grinding more crystals, I'd be happy to do so." 

“Are you sure?” Glynda said, “I know you said you knew it was unlikely but you hoped that this day would be storybook perfect, without having to ask, but there’s really nothing special about not having to ask. I mean, if you want something, just say so, and I’ll try to accommodate. It’s the best avenue to getting what you want, ahaha."

"Oh!" Ruby said. "Okay. Umm, let me think-"

And Glynda let Ruby think for a while. 

“So, ummm,” Ruby looked down at her feet and blushed, slightly. She took a quick breath. “So I guess it’s a little contradictory,” Ruby said, “But- I always wanted to be a good servant and be praised for it, but-" 

Glynda looked back through the day. “Did I thank you for fetching my reagents? I hope I did- I should have-"

“Oh, you did-"

Glynda smiled the warmest smile she could. She leaned forward and stroked Ruby’s hair, twice. “Well, you did a very good job. I appreciate your impeccable service."

“I-” Ruby shrunk into her shoulders and she tilted her head up. “Thank you, mistress.”

Glynda leaned back. Her hand tingled where she touched Ruby's feathered locks, and she suspected it wasn't because her familiar's hair was magic. 

"But, also, uh." Ruby blushed at the ground. "Sometimes I want to be told that I'm a bad little girl, and I want to get punished for it.”

The blush was apparently contagious, because Glynda felt her own face grow hot.

Glynda cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. “You’ve done everything outstandingly,” she said. Now that she was looking back, she was trying to think of a way Ruby might have been deliberately doing some of her tasks wrongly, but nothing stood out in her mind. 

“Yeah, I didn’t want to sabotage you or anything,” Ruby said, “So, I figured, maybe I could just be a good girl, today."

“So you’re saying that you _don't_ really want to be a bad girl.”

"Well- I think, deep down I already might be? And that's why I want to be punished for it? I don't know if the reasons really matter. "

"Oh. Well." Glynda said. "If that's what you want me to do? Then I can. I want this day to be good for you."  

Ruby blinked, and then her face lit up and she floated, perhaps literally. "Okay, yeah!" Ruby smiled sheepishly, “Safeword’s ‘Oatmeal’.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Safeword.” Glynda said. Then she gathered up the components she had been threading onto a necklace. "So, do you think you could put this away for me? Downstairs, on the same bookshelf as the pickled frogs."

And Ruby nodded and bowed and said 'of course' (And flashed her thighs when she turned aound), and took the bag of Glynda's magical stuff and left the room. 

As soon as Ruby left the room, Glynda rushed over to her desk. She pulled out the contract and skimmed to the part about the safewords. 

So the short of it was, it would just be assumed anything Glynda wanted to do to Ruby would be acceptable unless Ruby objected, but they should try to talk things out beforehand. It seemed to make sense. 

 

 

Ruby returned and curtsied. 

"So, just curious," Glynda said, "Why 'oatmeal'?"

"Oh! Because you can enunciate it even if you're gagged."

Glynda wondered if that was a fetish thing. "So you end up being gagged, often?"

Ruby scrunched her mouth to the side and tittered ack and forth. "Sort of. If you don't mind. Not today, necessarily, though." 

 "Okay, so," Glynda said, "How- how do you want to be punished?"

"Well, spankings are pretty customary." 

Glynda blinked. Her brain didn't seem to work.

"Spanking?" Glynda said, meekly. Her glasses fogged up again. "You mean, like, hitting you on the- on the bottom?" 

"Yeah." 

Glynda took a breath. "Yeah. I can manage that," she said. 

And Ruby blushed more and her breathing became heavy and she only managed to look Glynda in the eyes for a few moments. "T-thank you, Mistress." 

 

 

 

And then Glynda was in her chair, and Ruby lay on her stomach, across Glynda's lap, her head to the left of her mistress. 

Ruby wiggled her lower body quite, erm, sensually.  

And Glynda was acutely aware of Ruby's weight in her lap- not in like a weight shaming way- but in that there was a living (possibly?) breathing (definitely- in ragged, heavy breaths) huma- sentient entity on her lap, waiting to be spanked. Waiting for _her_ to spank her.

Ruby wore black panties- cotton, from the feel of them- (shed been flashing them at Glynda all day) and from up close Glynda could discern the pattern of the lace around their edges. 

Glynda ran her right hand up Ruby’s thigh, from the underside of the knee to the base of her buttocks before she, maybe out of a desire to procrastinate, opted instead to run her hand along Ruby's waist. 

"Is the corset comfortable?" Glynda asked.

"Oh, um!" Ruby blushed, "I know I'm supposed to be all skeletaly, but I like cookies too much, so I wear it to be slimmer, and a bit curvier..." 

"I'm sure you're attractive enough without it." 

"Thanks," Ruby smiled, reflexively, for a moment, "But, I like the corset. It's snug." Ruby wiggled again. 

Glynda adjusted her fogging glasses, and then resumed caressing Ruby's body- another sweep down the legs, around the thighs, light brushes and long strokes.  

And then Glynda grabbed Ruby's butt. 

Ruby squeaked, but, like, in sort of an acted way. Not in a way that seemed forced, but it was like, Ruby knew it was going to happen, and was squeaking to follow a script or something. 

(Glynda wondered how many relationships Ruby had been in before, before pushing those thoughts out of her head, for now)

And Glynda felt the desire to embarrass Ruby for real. Like, if this was supposed to be a perfect first day? And, also, she had been obsessing about this particular impertinent heinie, being wiggled at her all day. 

The mistrezs rubbed her hand around Ruby's bottom. "So this is where cookies end up after Death takes them," Glynda mused. 

And then Ruby squeaked in a very satisfying manner. Her face even reddened.  "M-mistress!" 

Glynda chuckled. 

And then Glynda brought her hand up. She breathed. 

"You've been," Glynda managed to say, "such a bad little girl, Ruby."

And Glynda slapped Ruby's ass.

"Mmmmmmph!" Ruby moaned. 

Electricity shot through Glynda's veins, through her right hand, through her throat and stomach and between her thighs- it wrapped around her heart and numbed her mind.

"Was that alright?" Glynda said.

"Mrm- yes," Ruby breathed. 

"I didn't hurt you?" 

"I wouldn't worry about hurting me," Ruby said with a hint of a chuckle. She did some magic thing with her tongue involving ethereal rose petals. 

Oh, yeah. Death can't die or something. 

"So, um," Ruby said. she bit her lip. "Harder this time?" 

"Y-yeah, sure."

Glynda spanked Ruby's butt again. 

"Mmmmmmmmmrrmph!" 

Ruby took three heavy, sultry breaths as her body shook. 

Glynda ran her left hand under Ruby’s chin and brushed her familiar's lip with her thumb. 

Ruby’s mouth opened in a gasp and Gydna stuck her thumb in her servant’s mouth, running her thumb along Ruby's tongue. Glynda didn't know if that was sexy or not, or what possessed her to be so bold, but it felt like the right thing to do. 

Glynda pulled her left hand back, trailing a thin strand of saliva, and Ruby's head followed it, open mouthed and wanting. 

Ruby closed her though and visibly swallowed. She looked to her Mistress. 

"More," Ruby breathed. 

 

 

 

Three more spanks, and Ruby was still completely inappropriate- all breathy and shivery and moaning and a little bit sweaty. 

Not that Glynda was any better. She wasn't sure she could handle more of the, the, uh, foreplay. Her chest wound was throbbing, but so was her throat and heart and head, for a different reason. 

"So, uh," Glynda said. She adjusted her glasses, "I'm - I'm a little nervous about, you know, about going further than this." Glynda coughed, "Not that I'm a virgin, it's just-" 

Ruby smiled. "That's fine. We can stop here."

"Are- are you sure? I don't want to leave you unsatisfied-" 

"Don't worry, Mistress," Ruby smiled again, and she squeezed Glynda's free hand, "That was wonderful. I'm going to daydream about it, tomorrow." 

Glynda coughed and adjusted her glasses again. Her cheeks burned. "Okay," she said. 

And Ruby picked herself up off Glynda's lap.

 

 

Ruby escorted Glynda to her mistress's bed and helped tuck her in. Glynda thought it was a little wierd to be doted upon in such a way, but she liked it.

"I can sleep at the foot of your bed, if you'd like," Ruby said.

Glynda's heart thundered again, for some reason. "I- that's alright." Glynda tiled her head. "Actually, do you even need to sleep?" 

"Well, no," Ruby shrugged slightly, to the floor, "But I can meditate. And I know it's a power thing, me being at your feet. So if you'd like...?"

"Well, practically, I will be asleep, so I wouldn't really, you know, be in a position to care what you're doing while I'm sleeping," Glynda said. 

"Whatever you wish, Mistress." 

"And I wouldn't want to get in the way of any of your prior obligations," Glynda said, "So if you need to take care of them tonight, please do." 

"Will do." 

"And I don't know if you have any daytime obligations-" 

"We can work that out tomorrow," Ruby said. She waved the air. "I'll be here when you wake up." 

Glynda smiled reflexively. "Oh, okay. Yeah, that's great." 

Ruby nodded profusely. "Yes." 

And Glynda closed her eyes and breathed and fell asleep.

 


	3. Starbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glynda talks to her friends about having a familiar and a girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borrowing characters from other universes. Hope its not too off-putting, all these gratuitous cameos. Mostly, they're a vehicle tthrough which to examine Glynda's circumstances, because relationships don't exist in a vacuum, and there aren't a lot of adults in RWBY for her to talk to her relationship with, and I don't like making characters out of whole cloth. I know I'll probably lose some subscribers, though. 
> 
> I'm also considering changing the title, since I'm running out of thematic chapter titles already. I'm bad at titles, though, so if anyone has any suggestions, I would be willing to steal them, muwahaha.

A ting and a clunk accompanied Glynda into the tavern. It was a rustic little dive, where all the adventurers went for gossip, quests, and the occasional brawl. And also to drink and hang out, sometimes, but who used taverns for _that,_ now a days?

Glynda could walk without the crutch now, with a limp, so that's what she did. She wore her traveling cloak and wizard hat; the cloak, she hung on the rack by the door, but the hat was important for symbolic reasons. She and her friends- and most of her colleagues, really- wore the signifiers of their trades when out in public-

Speaking of which, some of Glynda's friends had already arrived; there was the candy witch, the Great and Powerful Wizard, and whatever it was Cinder was registered as, at the moment. Last time it was Runeforger, but she was looking into relics the past few weeks. 

"Hey guys," said the newly arrived wizard as she took a seat. When the bartender walked by, Glynda ordered a water; she normally had wine, but she wasn't supposed to drink while she was recovering. "Sorry I've been AWOL for a week." She rubbed the back of her head. "Stuff kinda came up. I'll get into it once everyone's here. "

"See," said the Great and Powerful Wizard, "When I sent that ether message asking if you were alive, I didn't _really_ think I was being facetious, but the joke was on me." 

"Wait," said the runeforger, "You actually _died?"_

The witch looked concerned, but didn't seem to have anything to add.

The wizard cleared her throat. "It's cool though. I self-resurrected, and went to the stitcher right after. I should make a full recovery, in a few weeks."

"That's a relief," said the witch.There were nods in agreement. "Which stitcher did you go to?"

"The one with the eyepatch," the Great and Powerful joked. It was funny, because they all had eyepatches.

"Um," the wizard tilted her head to the side. "The good one? I hope? I didn't think there was a big consideration, since I was mostly concerned with trying to come back to life."

Another ting and another clunk signaled someone new stepped in. Glynda waved him down; the tinkerer in their group. All of them, save the runeforger, owned small shops, and most of them had familiars, so this was partially an information gathering session for Glynda on what the hell she was actually supposed to do with her psychopomp familiar.

"Hey, what great timing," said the Great and Powerful. He gestured to the tinkerer. "James knows a lot about that."

"I know a lot about what?" asked the tinkerer.

"Dying," said the runeforger. The wizard flicked a small, mostly harmless kinetic bolt onto her head, but the runeforger brushed it off.

"What our rather blunt friend means," the Great and Powerful Wizard gestured grandly, "Is that you are familiar with the more, aha, metaphysical side effects of creating and/or returning to life." 

"Huh?" the tinkerer. He ordered some dwarf beer when the bartender came around. "If you do it once, these machines from the realm of Order put you on a list. And if you do it too much, they team up with the psychopomps come around and turn your life into a slasher horror show." 

Glynda avoided choking on her water. "The- pyschopomps do that? I thought they just ferried souls to the afterlife." 

There was another tink and accompanying clunk; the final member of their group had arrived.

"I admit I'm not as well versed on celestial bureaucracy," said the tinkerer, "But I think they're also responsible for killing people?" 

And then the druid sat down. With her, everyone was here that was going to be.

"What's going on?" asked the druid, in the kind of stereotypical voice that sang to birds and ferrets. She ordered some apple brandy when the time came.

"Glynda died," said the Great and Powerful. The wizard in question frowned. 

"Oh my gosh!" the druid clutched her mouth, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I self-resurrected right after, and I sought professional medical attention immediately after." 

"Well, thank goodness." The druid lowered her hand to her collarbone. "I'm glad you're alright." 

"That always seemed uncomfortable, if you weren't specked for it," said the tinkerer. He turned to the druid. "What's self-resurrection like?"

"Oh no, you're thinking of Shamans. But Druids can reincarnate without much training. It's a big hassle, though, so you're better off letting a cleric raise you, or just not dying in the first place."

There were some chuckles. Glynda blushed out of embarrassment, slightly.

Glynda rubbed the back of her head. "Yeah, I wanted to get someone else's perspective; how common is resurrecting?"

"Depends on how dangerous your profession is." 

"And how careful you are." 

"But for shopkeepers?" said the tinkerer, "Probably not that often. But the immortal keepers of order tend to mostly hunt down repeat offenders, or people who've also grown too powerful."

"Also, keep an eye out for angle dogs in dark corners."

"Oh, no; that's for people who mess with dimensional magic," said the druid.

The group devolved into little discussions about times they were hunted down by various things.

Then there was a lull, and a few people looked to Glynda.

"So, uh," the wizard said. "What's everyone been up to?" 

"Oh, you don't have to do that, Glynders," said the runecaster, "We know you're here to talk about your new familiar."

"Ooh ooh," said the Great and Powerful Wizard, "Can we guess what it is?" 

"Question is," said the witch, "Do you think she went with a typical familiar? Or something weird.l?"

"Well, it wasn't any of the local animals or spirits. They haven't said anything about it," said the druid.

"If she was going to go with a cat or raven, she'd have gotten it in school," said the Great and Powerful. He rubbed his chin and smirked at Glynda. "So it's gotta be something mega-wierd." 

Ozpin's contracts with his 'familiars' were entirely non-magical. He always wanted to live vicariously through his best friend's familiar choice.

"Well, can I ask why you went with your choices?" the wizard asked her friends.

The tinkerer went first. He looked wistfully into his empty mug, but that might have just because it didn't contain any alcohol anymore. "I wanted to create life, but not though the blasphemous necromancy of the stitchers, no offense," said the tinkerer, "so I contracted out something from a world where that had already occurred, to glean insights on it."

"And it turned out Penny was entirely unsuitable for that purpose," said the Great and Powerful. 

The tinkerer nodded his head from side to side, a little. "I mean- yeah, but she's been helpful other ways. And she is rather fun. From a certain perspective." 

Everyone looked into either the distance or their drinks and nodded, hesitantly.

"My familiar was a random cat who enjoyed watching me suffer," confessed the witch. "Eventually we became friends and now they help me run my shop. They helped me learn to have a positive body image, eventualy." She patted her stomach.

Glynda found herself nodding. "Was- was that, uh," she pontificated, careful to not spill her water, "Was that difficult, making friends with someone under contract? I guess it worked out in the end."

The witch shrugged. "I mean, we became friends first, so maybe that has something to do with it. If you're concerned about making friends with your familiar; I guess you just have to wait and see if it was meant to be? But that's just what it's like to have friends."

"Em and Merc, I met while doing something stupid," said the runeforger. 

"And you know," Ozpin said, "Right now I've got a raven, because they're cool."

"I have a similar reason for my animal companion." said the druid. "I got a bunny i thought was cute."

The wizard nodded along. "And three of you have talking familiars?"

The druid put her hand to her collarbone. "Oh, Glynda; everything talks, if you just listen."

The group blinked.

The druid sunk into her shoulders. "Sorry! Sorry, that was a joke." She sipped her alcohol. "Sorry."

"But you do talk to animals, though," said the Great and Powerful, "Like, all animals. Including your familiar." 

"Well, yes," said the druid. She took a sip of her brandy. "But people can have great relationships with their familiars, even if they don't talk. And I realize that not everyone can talk to everything." 

"So, back to the point, what kind of familiar does Glynda have, I wonder?" 

Welp, Glynda hadn't come up with anything better than the truth. "A, um." she looked aside. "A psychopomp."

The runeforger spit out her whiskey. The Great and Powerful Wizard laughed, and everyone else dropped their jaws and/or their drinks.

"Isn't that _really_ dangerous?" said the runeforger.

"There's like, three things you _never_ use as a familiar-" 

"Yeah- psychopomps, Chaos Gods, and -what was the third one?"

"Eldritch horrors. Their forms don't don't correspond to real geometries, so you can't be sure the binding circle _actually_ protects you during the process." 

"Huh. I thought it was because they don't interpret language the same way we do and end up finding breaking bounds because they don't understand the binding." 

"No, since the contracts are bound to the Master, it doesn't matter if the entity speaks the same language or is even sentient, or whether or not the entity in question fully understands the boundaries of the spell at the onset."

"I've summoned a Chaos God before," said the druid. 

Everyone stared.  

"Oh, I'm sorry, that was misleading; my friends did most of the work. I just did the finishing touch and the talking." 

"And...", said the runeforger, "How'd that work out?"

"Oh! Quite well, actually. We had tea. He was quite nice."  

Everyone blinked.

"Well, maybe Glynda's murder-ghost familiar won't backfire on her either, then," said the runecaster.

"I- I honestly didn't get that impression." said the wizard. "What's- what's so bad about psychopomps? I mean- they're just like the stewards of the afterlife, right?" 

"They can only pretend to be bound. You can't contain death." 

"Not _yet_ , anyway," said the druid. She gave the wizard a smile.

"But you can forestall it; there's a lot of stories of old wizards trying to keep the reaper away. They all fail in the end."  

"Yeah; don't fear the reaper and all." 

"But I'm... not old, though?"

The runeforger laughed. "No, of course not.

"So are you sending it out to stalk the night?" The Great and Powerful Wizard got out of his chair and exaggeratedly stepped around the table, her arms reaching out theatrically. 

"Well, uh," Said Glynda. "If you count 'fetching groceries and reagents' as 'stalking the night', then sure." 

"Does 'fetching reagents' mean, like, 'harvesting chimera organs and acronantula venom sacks when they're _still alive?!?"_ _"_ Ozpin chuckled stupidly. 

"And here we are, with our utterly mundane familiars doing utterly mundane things," said the tinkerer.

"I-" the wizard began, "I didn't mean to imply _that_ -"

"We're pulling on your leg, Glynders," said the runeforger. "But I'm some of us are a little jealous."

"Wait, I just realized something," said the Great and Powerful, "Was that the pyschopomp that came to ferry you when you died?" 

"Um." Glynda said. "Yeah- lucky guess I guess?" 

There was a short round of applause. "Wow, Glynda; turning the being that was going to harvest you into your own servant." 

"How utterly metal," said the tinkerer.

"I- I mean, sure?" the wizard took a sip of her water. "I mean, I didn't really think it was all that big a deal-

"Don't sell yourself short, Glynda," said the Great and Powerful. He then smiled.  "So what are you doing later today? Maybe we can set up a familiar play date or something."

"Oooh!" said the druid, "That sounds fun."

"I'm, um," Glynda sunk into her chair and tried not to blush. "A little predisposed, tonight, actually." 

"Well, we can at least send you a meal or two. You've gotta be having some trouble cooking for yourself after having died so recently."

"I've, uh," Glynda said, "Actually been eating quite well. There's- there's someone who's been cooking me dinner." 

Everyone blinked.

"Someone.... like, who's been going to your house?" 

"But you're such a private person!"

"Yeah." Glynda said. She managed to keep her composure. Everyone was looking at her expectantly, for more explanation.  "My, uh, um. My girlfriend."

Glynda braced for the fallout; positive fallout, though; but it was still probably going to be really awkward and personal.

She wasn't disappointed. 

The druid grew a smile that encompassed the entire lower half of her face. The tinkerer raised some eyebrows and his mug in approval. The runeforger nodded and scrunched her mouth. The witch cackled, softly but excitedly. 

And godsdammed Ozpin started squealing and running around like a berserker on a auger rush, hugging Glynda every time he circled past her side of the table. 

"Congratulations! Oh my gosh, you're no longer all alone in the world!" said Glynda's best friend.

"Wow, saving the biggest news for last, huh?" 

"Um-" Glynda began.

"And a girl," mused the runecaster, "I always knew you played for the right team."

"Oh hush, Cinder," said the druid, "Every sexuality is valid, as far as the conceit of distinct external attraction to specific, arbitrary expressions of mortal masculinity and femininity is valid at all." 

"Just yesterday, a customer came into my shop who had the head of a squid. Like, literally a squid. So I find the concept of sexuality based around a binary gender divide quaint at best."

Luckily, that conversation occupied her friends for a while, giving Glynda.

The druid reached a hand out to the wizard. "But, truly- and I'm sure I speak for everyone here when I say that I'm so happy for you."

"Huzzah!" said the tinkerer. He may have had a little much to drink.

Everyone toasted. Glynda decided that a small glass of wine probably wouldn't kill her recovery, so she allowed Ozpin to order her one.

"So, how'd you two meet?" her best friend asked her, after returning to his chair.

Glynda had been preparing for this, actually. "I had to go through this sort of bureaucratic process, and she was the caseworker I ended up talking to. She helped me out, and we hit it off, and she wanted to make arrangements to meet again, under more intimate circumstances, and I agreed."

"Ooh, so _she's_ the bold one," said the runecaster, "So Glynders never had the nerve. Well, it looks like it worked, though. Congrats!" 

"Hope you don't mind us prying," Ozpin smirked. 

"And, not to be too much of a monster," said the druid, "But Glynda was probably waiting to make sure she wouldn't be single after like two weeks before sharing that with us."

Everyone save the wizard looked at the druid, slightly horrified.

The witch broke the silence. "See, you keep talking about the futility of sapient understanding, but you've been in a relationship for a while, haven't you?" 

The druid waved the air. "I am in a relationship with the entire multiverse. But yes, in so much as any two living beings can understand each other in a way either finds meaningful." 

"You should give Glynders here some advice, then," said the runeforger. "Since she's never even been on a date before. But that's probably changed, huh?"

Glynda was about to object to that first part, but she held her tongue when she realized, yeah, it was true, and she could probably use some advice. She tried to ignore Cinder elbowing her.

The druid smiled, sheepishly.  "Well, the three most important things about a relationship are communication, honesty, and sacrifice."

Ozpin and Cinder nodded.

"Especially starting out, you want to be sure you're right for each other, so let them know what you like, what you think of the things each of you do and what both of you do together. If it turns out you have fundamental differences that would affect your compatibility, it's better to  know earlier, so you can break it off or overcome them, rather than having them fester and grow out of control." 

"Honesty means being true not just to them, but yourself. I guess you could also call it Introspection. I know a lot of people are willing to go on fun, exotic dates when they first start out, but that might not be for the best if you're only willing to do that at the onset of the relationship. If people just admitted what they wanted, there'd be a lot less relationship drama. Not that there's anything wrong with fun, romantic dates, though, but ensure you suffer no delusions if they're not something you like."

"Yeah," said the witch, "Don't forget to share the simple, less exciting parts of yourself. And get to know there's."

"Make sure you're compatible on your lazy days, too."

The druid nodded. "Yes. And thirdly; personally, I've had good results from my blood sacrifices to Yog Sothoth, but the only cosmic deities whom I've heard it's bad to sacrifice to are the Sins, so most likely, whomever you chose is fine." 

Everyone blinked. 

Everyone blinked again.

The witch coughed. "What our druid friend means is, not every moment you spend together will feel perfect. There are good times and bad times and working through the bad times is a part of maintaining the relationship."

The runecaster nodded. "Nobody is perfectly compatible. The reason relationships work is because you have to be willing to change some things and accept others."  

 The druid nodded, nervously, "That's really good advice, but I really didn't mean any of that when I said-"

"Candy!" said the witch, "I may be biased, but I feel sharing sweets is also really good relationship advice." 

The runecaster smirked, "Isn't that basically bribery?"

The witch shrugged. "I mean, sharing experiences is literally the whole point of dates, right? I don't think it should be any different if it's a sunset or a box of candy. Try to share some of the simple pleasures."

The wizard rubbed her head. "I mean, she mentioned that she really likes cookies, so I think candy would work?"

The wItch dug into her pack and procured a small bag of wax paper and hardened sugar with her shop's logo on it, which she tossed to Glynda. "Here, congrat's to leaving the single life."

Some people laughed at that. The Great and Powerful and the runecaster did not. Glynda tried to move the conversation on from herself.

"Oh!" said the former-runecaster, "I recently re-registered as a relic hunter." She pulled out an archaeologist's hat. "So I'm leaving the dull, boring life of runes behind to go tomb-hunting."

Some of the others forced smiles. "Sounds great, Cindy."

"I hope it world out for you."

And that distracted Glynda from obsessing about her evening plans.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ruby was waiting for her when Glynda returned to her house. She had learned some more real cooking, and- it was really nice, Glynda admitted. Like, maybe if she were being melodramatic, the idea that someone was willing to feed her filled a hole in herself that she didn't realize she had. Maybe.

And, if she were the sort to be sappy, Glynda might admit that it really warmed her heart- and, possibly, other parts of her- to see Ruby waiting for her, to see Ruby's deliberately clumsy curtsy and sheepish smile- how she tucked strands of her crimson hair behind her ear in the most adorable way-

"I- um," Glynda began, "I'm really, really grateful that you're cooking for me, but I feel guilty that I'm not reciprocating."

"Oh! Oh, no, don't worry about that, mistress," Ruby said, "I'm perfectly happy doing this for you. It- It suits the role of a sub, yeah?"

Glynda nodded, hoping she understood. "But still; I'd like to, ah, reward my loyal servant, at some time." Glynda managed to say that with only a little blush. She tilted her head to the side. "Do you eat souls?"

Ruby smiled, softly, at the ground. "Oh! No, I'm on a soul diet. I've been trying soy souls, recently but I don't think your town sells them. But thanks for the offer! I can digest mortal food, usually though, but it's not necessary"

"So do you like," Glynda pulled out the bag her witch friend had given her. "Candy?"

Ruby's eyes widened, sparkling slightly in amazement or something. "C-candy? For me?" She clutched her cheeks. "You- you shouldn't have."

"Yes,"Glynda said, reveling in her character. "All for you, my loyal servant."

"I- thank you, mistress."

Glynda looked at the bag for a second. Then she looked up and adjusted her glasses and smirked, gesturing for Ruby to approach her. Ruby did.

Glynda pulled out a butterscotch, wrapped in intricate wax paper. She unwrapped it slowly. It crinkled.

Ruby kneeled down and managed to smile in a way that looked like she was failing to suppress her smile. She eyed the candy hungrily.

Glynda held out the sweet between her thumb and pointer finger, teasing it in front of her servant's eyes. Ruby gulped, audibly. Glynda felt a tingle travel down her spine. 

Ruby closed her eyes and opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. Glynda adjusted her glasses.

Glynda didn't manage to avoid touching Ruby's tongue when she delivered her gift- maybe that was okay? Glynda eyed the damp part of her thumb, eventually rubbing the wet spot until it dried, while Ruby suckled on the piece of hard candy. 

Ruby opened her eyes. "Thank you, Mistress," she enunciated. She stood up. "So, would you like your dinner now, mistress?"

 

 

 

 

 

After dinner, Glynda thanked the chef and gathered her nerve.

"So, uh," Glynda asked, "What's it's like to be a psychopomp?"

"I- you don't need to concern yourself with that..."

"I think I'd like to, if you don't mind-" Glynda coughed and she re-composed herself and lowered her voice. "I mean- Answer your mistress, servant."

Ruby squeaked, playfully. She smiled. "Well, right now, we some temp workers to help us with some of the overflow due to the Blood War, right?"

Glynda... thought she understood what those words meant.

"And a lot of them are relatively unmotivated. I try to tell my boss that conscripting souls like that never works out, but they're cheaper than re-purposing, like, some of the Judgement Gods, so every so often we get a pack of them and they need training."

Glynda refreshed her smile. "Oh. Ok. Cool. So, you're like, a, uh, manager? Is it literally a bureaucracy?"

"I mean- 'bureaucracy' can mean a lot of different things, yeah? And I'm a manager when I need to be, but usually I have a lot of independence in working through my caseload..."

Glynda thought she finished that conversation adequately. She didn't feel like she understood Ruby much better, though. Well, time for something else.

"And now, ah," Glynda said, "I thought it might be romantic to go stargazing? I have an observatory at the top of the tower, if you'd like?"

Ruby smiled and agreed. She seemed excited, which was probably good.

 

 

 

Glynda lived far enough away from the city that it was usually dark enough to see the sky clearly. Her tower had a large telescope- a mundane one, save for a few magical filters to view the occasional patterns in cosmic ether- but she also had a bench up there, big enough for two people to sit on. She and Ruby could sit side by side, leading their heads together.

Ruby, though, had a different idea. She turned to her mistress. "Can," Ruby stuttered, "Can I sit in your lap, mistress?" 

Glynda's heart immediately leapt into her throat. "I- sure. Yes." Glynda breathed in the cold night air to steady herself.

And, once Ruby crawled onto her, there it was again- the weight, the feeling that there was another living creature that wanted to be- intimate, in multiple definitions of the term. The, um, the very unscientific feeling of togetherness. 

Also, Ruby really liked wiggling her bottom. Glynda had to unfog her glasses at several times.

"I like to come up here to watch the sky and clear my head, sometimes." Glynda said. "I think it's humbling, that there's still so much we don't know about the world- that there's so much out there for me- well, for anyone, but it's been something that's inspired me a lot- that there's so much out there left to discover." 

Ruby laughed, though. Glynda frowned.

"You think so?" Ruby said. She leaned back, so her head was besides Glynda's, and she pointed to one specific star. "That one's Brontitallia B. The mortals on its third planet breath an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere that's compatible with earthlings, and they have a lot of really nice shoe shops there." 

Ruby pointed to what Glynda had thought was the most distant planet in their solar system. "That's Yoggoth, where the Migou live. They've got the second best mushroom wine I've ever had." 

"That constellation is just holes in the celestial dome."

"And that one's a giant bull being chased across the sky by angry angels."

"And _that,_ " Ruby pointed to a particularly dim star. "Is actually a galactic space monster, wreathed with wicked eyes and nasty teeth, heading towards this world to devour all life upon it for inscrutable, unknowable reasons beyond the comprehension of mere mortals." 

Glynda blinked. "Wait- that's coming _here?_ Should- should someone be doing something about that?" 

Ruby shrugged. "In a century or two, it'll be one group of adventurer's epic quest. But the dimension inside its non-euclidean stomach has a nice coffee shop that soaks it's beans in the digestive fluid of the monster, and it really brings out the flavor." 

Glynda... didn't know what to make of the rest of that conversation. 

 

 

 

 

Afterwards, Glynda tried to stifle a nagging sensation in her stomach, before she delivered her servant's daily spankings. Glynda succeeded, for the most part. Her heart beat faster and she smiled as she eyed up and down Ruby's quivering body as the shorter humanoid crawled into her lap.

Glynda had grown more bold, maybe? More comfortable with spanking, but only in this specific context, she really didn't want to spank just anybody. And Glynda'd found herself daydreaming about the feel of Ruby's thighs and buttocks, about the lace trim on Ruby's panties and, well, and in a less sexual and more... emotional way, the physical touch of her girlfriend, when Ruby lay in her lap. 

Glynda brought herself back into the moment and cleared her throat. "So, how should I punish you today, my insolent pet?" 

Ruby squeaked. "I- whatever you desire, my mistress."

"Or maybe you've grown to like these little punishments?" Glynda pretended to muse, "Tsk. What a naughty little girl you are."

Ruby blushed and moaned through her closed mouth. "Mmrph! Yes, mistress. I've been such a bad girl." 

Glynda brougth her hand down on Ruby's backside, savoring the physical sensation and the accompanying rush through her head and heart and throat.

 

 

 

 

And afterwards, Ruby helped Glynda prepare for bed. Glynda still hadn't undressed in front of Ruby- Ruby hadn't undressed for Glynda, though, but the psychopomp mentioned that Glynda could just ask for that, if she ever wanted to. Glynda had considered it a lot, but hadn't followed through yet.

But once Glynda emerged from her bathroom, Ruby helped her into bed and fixed Glynda's covers and raised her hand, ready to snuff out the candlelight. She had something to say first, though.

"So, uh," Ruby rubbed the back of her head. "In a few days, the contract's up; um" Ruby twiddled her thumbs. "I really like you, and- we can talk about it later, if you'd like- I'll be here tomorrow afternoon, but I thought I'd ask now, just so it's on the table-" Ruby looked up. "Would you like to discuss renewing it? I'll take you somewhere nice and we can do the whole 'responsible adult' thing, like we're 'supposed to do' for a master/sub relationship.

Glynda smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Ruby contained her giddyness. "Ok, sweet! I mean- goodnight, mistress."

Glynda closed her eyes. "Goodnight, my sweetling."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there a 'fantasy trope pastishe' tag? That's probably what this will end up as; a fairly standard romance progression, except in a universe where 'adventuring' and 'item shop owner' are legitimate careers. And, also, with BDSM. You have been warned. 
> 
> Next chapter, we see Ruby's friends.


	4. Napping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby has friends. They're also into BDSM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guarantee no expertise in mytholog, romance, BDSM, relationships, standard relationship progressions, alternate narrative techniques, or fantasy tropes in general.
> 
> Changed the namemail of the fic, and thr chaptet naming scheme a bit; I was running out of 'bound' puns.

<Oo~oh~ah! Oo~oh~ah~oh!>

In a sepia land, dark, shadowed, ruddy with a sun burnt black like a permanent eclipse and an air that cones pre-exhaled from embalmed lungs, that paints the tangy residue of metal behind the teeth, in ways that don't wash off with toothpaste. 

There strides, into spirit form, purposefully, freely, a rose-flurried reaper, dripping blood from feathered hair, a wicked screaming scythe in bony hand. She walks, steady, around and upside-down along a winding path to a strange saloon <step, step, step your heart out~> 

This ultimate Last Chance Saloon, a No More Chance Saloon, a shadow of a memory reflected through misunderstood nostalgia and other such metaphors. There is a table. there are many tables, and a bar, and a stage, but there is one table with a particular party of three. This is the reaper's destination.

She steps into the bar. 

And after a wave, excited and big, and a nod, slight, and a smile, wide yet subdued, the reaper takes a seat.

Her friends include an imperious rakshasa, dark-skinned and severe, with a crown of bone atop a mop of black hair, and the most petite jotun in the multiverse, with a proud scar across her left eye and her platinum hair braided to her left, and a fuck-off big dragon, with golden scales and a a gilded, artificial right forelimb, curled around the table, to fit, and a magnificent cascade of a blonde mane. People have died in that mane, but they died in awe.

A translucent bartender takes the reaper's order; two part spirit spirits, one part milk, dash of chocolate.

And the reaper puts her butt in a seat. 

"Hey Rubaby," says the fuck-off big dragon. She run's a claw through her mane. "How's it going?"

"It's been a while," says the rakshasa.

The rosy psychopomp rubs the back of her head. "Yeah~. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL these two weeks-"

"It is entirely understandable," says the jotun, "Considering someone else is monopolizing all your free time."

The fuck-off big dragon flashes rows of curved teeth the size of daggers. "So you've found a nice mistress, huh sis? Good for you!"

The psychopomp's grim face tints to match her hair. Blood is involved in  the coloration of both. "Y-yeah. She's amazing. Beautiful. Basically perfect in every way-"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Ruby cannot help but smile. "She's so confident- the first time she met, after it was clear I was a sub- she just went and asked if she could be my mistress. 

"Wow." The fuck-off big dragon nodded. "That does sound pretty perfect." 

"So if she's perfect," the rakshasa swirls their drink with a backwards hand. "Does she let you call her 'mommy' when you sit in her lap?"

Ruby blushes. "I-I haven't asked her yet." She stands up straighter. "Besides; I don't need her to cater to _all_ my fetishes."

"But if she's 'perfect', then she would be into everything you are, and nothing you are not," says the cat demon. They look into their wineglass, idly.

The pyschopomp looks abashed. "I mean, I was going to bring up the fetishes we were comfortable with when we meet to go over expectations, tomorrow."

There is a chorus of blinking. <blink blink>

"You haven't done that already?"

The psychopomp sinks further into her cloak, but not, like, through magical means. "I- I mean, I knew I was supposed to. But on the first day, we agreed to just do what felt natural, and then later go over expectations. It's been so romantic!" 

The jotun frowns, by tilting the corners of her mouth down more than normal. "But now, she'll be more inclined to try to keep the relationship, because it's already been going on, even if it turns out you two aren't compatible."

"How shrewd of you, to manipulate someone like so. You'd have a place in my palace court." The rakshasa grins. They know that the psychopomp loathes their approval, in such a context. 

"I-  I wasn't I didn't mean to manipulate her! I was trying to be romantic." 

"Strange how those two things seem to coincide."

The psychopomp crosses her arms. "You're a jerk, Blake."

"Nyeh."

"More like 'nyah'." You see, 'nyah' is the sound cats make, thus Ruby's remark was a racially tinged insult. 

There is a brief pause, in the conversation, while the four mythological beings eye each other and tense. The band most certainly starts sings some thematically appropriate song. 

The pyschopomp strikes first, swift and sudden as death or something. A wicked scythe, dripping with roses and screaming in the eye and the mind, materializes in her hand mid lunge. She slashes the rakshasa's throat- 

And the rakshasa gurgles and grabs the psychopomp's face, pointed inverse fingers curling around a chin and opposite temples. Specters of energy travel down their arm, to thier fingertips, exploding with a sharp crack like spilled nightmares and indenting parts of the reaper's head.

The fuck-off big dragon roars and writhes and slashes at the rakshasa with her biological arm. Preemptively, she launches the claw of her prosthetic at the jotun. The ice giantn dodges, summoning a nexus of ice in her left hand. She presses it into the scaly abdomen of the fuck-off big dragon, where it explodes by effervescing, radially, ice and ice-themed energy. The fuck-off big dragon roars one last, forlorn roar, and she flails her head up high before crashing onto the bar table. Her mane washes over the battlefield.

And then they are all dead, including the bar table. Bleaugh.

The rakshasa's the first to recover. Their throat stitches back together and they pick up their broken wineglass and take a sip of what's left.  "But seriously, Ruby, I'm really happy for you." At some point, the bartender floats over and replaces the glass, and the wine. 

The psychopomp flashes some candy-covered tombstone teeth, as they re-materialize in her mouth. "Thanks. I have to say, I always envied how perfect you and Weiss got along."

The jotun chuckles, coughing up a slurry of blood as she does. The bartender puts another mug of mead into her hands, at some point. "Do we really look perfect?"

The reaper tilts her head. "Are- are you having problems? Sorry if I was being insensitive-"

The demon waves their hand, backwardly. "Our relationship is predicated on deep-seated racial hatred and class warfare."

"So we turned those feelings into race-play."

"On an unrelated note, we were both into bondage."  

"Makes sense," says the psychopomp. She turns to the fuck-off big dragon. "And Yang. you've been Neo's sub for a year. I envy you as well."

The fuck-off big dragon resurrects, and she props up the remains of the table in a semblance of furniture. (The bartender places another can of Pabst Blue Ribbon on the table for her.) Then she shrugs. "Well, it's not been, like, constantly for a year. If you've spent your nights with this Glynda lady for two weeks nonstop, you've probably got more mileage with her. It's more like I'm her booty call."

"And look who's trying to change the subject," intones the cat demon, "So tell us; what kind of mythical creature is Glynda?" 

"Ooh, can we we guess?" asks the jotun.

"Not to stereotype, but demons are prone to being kind of domme-y," says the demon. "Is she some sort of ventral demon?" 

"Well, not really, no," says the psychopomp, "Not even a little." 

"Dragon?" Asks the member of the group who would obviously ask that.

"No."

The rakshasa pontificates. "Alright; a hint then; what element is her species aligned with?" 

Ruby thinks for a while. "Life?"

"So, she's, like a fairy or nymph or something?"

"N-no."

The fuck-off big dragon raises a claw. "Does she have a tail?"

Ruby tilts her head to the side. "I don't think so?" 

"Horns?"

"Not that I've seen."

There is a chorus of glances. <glance glance>

"Okay, we give up." says the fuck-off big dragon. "What kind of being is she?"  

"Um." The psychopomp pokes her fingers together. "She's a- she's a human." 

There is another chorus of blinking. <blink blink>

"Ruby. Sis." The fuck-off big dragon puts a fuck-off metal hand on her sister's shoulder. "I hate to break this to you, but that's a recipe for heartbreak."

The rakshasa is less delicate. "What have you done, Ruby?"

Their distraction doesn't work. Ruby stands up. She points a shaking finger at her sister. "You don't get to lecture me about heartbreak, Yang-" 

"Oh, I'm not qualified?" Yang rears up. " I went through everything you did, Ruby! And I know that what you're doing isn't healthy-"

"-Maybe!" interjects the jotun, "Maybe Ruby can tell us what drew her to a human in the first place....?" 

Weiss's distraction works a little better. Ruby and Yang sulk into their respective corners. "I already told you," Ruby mumbles, "She's perfect."

"If she's human," says the rakshasa, "That means she's mortal." 

"I know that." 

"And that's compatible with your definition of perfection? You know what 'mortal' means, right?" 

"Of course I know what that means!" says the being who's descriptor literally means 'guide of souls', "It means one day she'll be gone. Forever."

"So- just out of curiosity, mind," says the jotun, "How- how do you manage to find meaning in anything you do together, if you know one day it'll all be for naught?

The pyschopomp sits down and, softly, barely, flashes a smile of tombstone teeth. "I think that just makes our moments more precious, you know? It's like," Ruby held her hand it and examined the horizon through the gaps in her fingers. "

"And is that preferable to being with someone forever?" says the rakshasa. 

"You don't know you'll spend an eternity with someone even if they're immortal," the pyschopomp points out. 

"So is the guarantee that you're not going to share your life with someone better than the opportunity that you might?"

the psychopomp folds her arms and leans back. "It's more complicated that and you know it, Blake." 

The jotun looks into her mead. "You forget that Ruby's got Stockholm Syndrome with Death."

The rakshasa chuckles. "In more ways than one." 

The psychopomp ignores her friends laughter. "Hey, I accept that I am going to cease existing, one day. And whether that is tomorrow or a million years from now, having made peace with the inevitability of my non-existance."

The rakshasa blinks and smirks. "But you know that the more likely eventuality is the million year one. I think you don't really accept death. You're just trying to convince yourself you do."

Ruby's eyes narrow.

Blake inversely gestures with her free hand. "Or maybe you're just trying to convince everyone else that you've made peace with death, to make them feel better about your occupation."

"Ahahaha," rumbles the fuck-off big dragon. "So how about the weather, huh? A psionic storm's scheduled for nest week-"

The rakshasa can't resist going a little further. "Or maybe you're still just hung up about your mo-"

Ruby lunges at Blake, materializing her scythe midway. Blake is ready for the slash- but Ruby tries another tactic, throwing a flurry of roses in the air. Blake balls her right fist and black energy effervesces, radially, wilting the rain of petals. 

Ruby appeared besides Weiss, striking the jotun in the back with the pommel of her scythe, and then, once Weiss is stunned, Ruby swings her scythe around her, decapitating the ice giant. Ruby had aimed for Blake's heart, you see.

Blake hisses in response and waves their hand at where Ruby used to be-. The psychopomp dodges the barrage of shadow bolts, dancing towards the rakshasa- but Ruby leaves herself open at her right side. When the psychopomp draws into melee range, Blake draws a wicked dagger with her free hand and lunges-

Only to be impaled through her torso. Ruby's weakness had been a faint, and the reaper removes her scythe from the demon, with a sickly _shrrrrrrk_ and, in the same motion, decapitates her second opponent of the fight.

Yang inhales grandly. Her eyes are red and her hair does the super-saiyan thing. She lets loose a jet of white flame at her sister.

Ruby holds her right hand out, to block the burning. It doesn't work; the edges of her fingers burning black, down to the bone, and then to dust. But before she succumbs to the fire, she manages one final blow across Yang's throat. 

The fuck-off big dragon roars one last, forlorn roar, and she flails her head up high before crashing onto the bar table. Her mane washes over the battlefield. 

The psychopomp falls to her knees. She drops her scythe, and she falls onto her face, with a thump.

And then they are all dead, again. Bleeeeaaaauuuugggggh. 

The rakshasa recovers first. "Twice in one sitting?" they say. They signal the bartender down to replace and refill their wineglass. 

Ruby re-integrates herself from the ash. "I- guess I overracted, a bit. 

Blake shoots Ruby a smile, eventually, after a few missteps. They don't manage the eye contact more than a second, though. "I just want you to know, regardless of ho much I will criticize you, I really do hope your little impromptu relationship works out." 

The jotun picks her head up and balances it on her neck, as her flesh knits itself back together. "Blake has a hard time expressing her emotions, without sarcasm." 

The rakshasa scrunches their mouth. "It is known."

"And if I can give you some advice?" Weiss says. "Sometimes, it seems like Blake and I will see the heat death of the universe together. Other times, I wonder why we ever got together in the first place. There's ups and downs to all relationships, whether they be platonic or romantic." 

"Or familial," chortles the fuck-off big dragon. She startes resurrecting. 

 "Thank you, Weiss, Yang, Blake." 

The fuck-off big dragon stretches and smacks her mouth and pus a clawed hand around the pyschopomp. "You can always come to us for help, or even just support." 

The rakshasa scrunches thier mouth. "Yeah."  

 "Well, actually," says the psychopomp, "Since I'm taking Glynda out to brunch tomorrow, I was wondering if any of you had any romantic venue suggestions....?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Glynda returned back to her house after her errands. She had timed her trip to the stitcher so that she'd return a little bit after Ruby became available.

And Ruby was there- she'd switched the look of her costume a few times, but Glynda decided she liked 'maid', if Ruby was inclined to dress up. The familiar liked to greet her mistress; she took the wizard's hat and helped her out of her coat and, generally, helped her mistress unwind after the day.

And they ate dinner again. Glynda had shown Ruby some new recipies for mortal food, the last week, and Ruby had taken to cooking.

After dinner, Glynda gave Ruby her daily spankings. They were up to seveal dozen per session, now, and Ruby moaned through today's as always.

And after that, Glynda checked the time. They had about five hours until the contract was up. This was, potentially, the last night they'd be together. Ruby assured her master that it was entirely up to Glynda if she wanted to renew their contract- but she mentioned that she really liked her new mistress, and she hoped Glynda felt the same.

Glynda made a smile. "I- was there anything romantic you wanted to do? Anything special?" she asked her servant. 

"There'll- there'll be time for that later." Ruby shot her a reassuring smile. 

Glynda bit the side of her lip, very slightly. "Well, to cap off these two weeks, then- if this was a perfect romance- what would you like to do?" 

Ruby cogitated for a bit. It was fine, Glynda waited. 

"Well, there was one thing, actually," Ruby said, eventually. 

Glynda smiled. "Well, what is it?"  

"It's fine if you think it's weird," Ruby mumbled to the ground. 

Glynda suppressed a chuckle. "I'd have to know what it is before I can think it's weird." 

Ruby laughed, once, slightly. "Well, uh," She looked up, her eyes twinkling, "Do you think i could lay my head in your lap?"

Glynda blinked. That seemed so mundane, so, of course? "Yeah, I can do that."  

They decided the couch was a good place for that. Glynda sat down. She was used to the residual pain from her torso wound whenever she  but it didn't bother her so much any more, and after a moment of relaxing, she barely noticed it.

Glynda turned to Ruby and patted the seat next to her. Ruby smushed her mouth together and stepped to the couch, sitting down on the spot Glynda had patted. Ruby looked straight ahead and twiddled her thumbs at her sides. 

Glynda reached over, at the side of Ruby's head, and she pulled, tilting the shorter woman onto her side, onto her lap. 

Ruby inhaled sharply. She nestled into place, curling up just a bit. 

Glynda stroked a lock of hair out of Ruby's face, behind her ear. She noticed the smell again- that weird ethereal tinging in the part of her nose that wasn't entirely physical. It was nice, now that she'd gotten used to it, now that she associated it with a wonderful, beautiful, lovely sentient being. 

"Now, do you want me to tell you what a good girl you've been? You mentioned that a while back," Glynda said. 

Ruby squeaked. "I- That'd be nice, yes." 

Glynda smiled. She cleared her throat and put on her domme voice. "You've been a good girl, Ruby Rose." 

"R-really?" Ruby squeaked, in her innocent playacting voicr. She smiled and blinked in Glynda's direction, once, before she looked into the distance. "Y-you're just saying that...."

"It's true," Glynda said, gently. "It's true." She cleared her throat. "To be fair, there were ups and downs through these two weeks, but I've already punished you for your transgressions." 

Ruby squeaked and blushed. Glynda blushed as well, and she adjusted her glasses and coughed.

"So now, let me give you your reward," Glynda said. She brushed another lock of hair behind Ruby's ear. "My beautiful, beautiful girl."

"You're hard working, and kind, and absolutely adorable," Glynda felt her girlfriend shudder under her. "I'm so glad I met you." 

"M-me too!" Ruby titled her head to the side, to make eye contact. She was beaming, and there was moisture in her eyes. "I'm so happy you asked me to be your servant." 

Glynda ran out of locks to brush behind Ruby's ear, so she settled for just stroking her forehead, or running her fingers though her girlfriend's hair, or script hung the top of her head. "You are very lovely, don't you know?" Glybda felt her own heart well up, againdt her ribcage and into her throat. "Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

"M-" Ruby began. She closed her eyes and gulped and turned her head back. "Mistress~" she moaned blissfully.

Glynda found herself a little speechless right after that. She smiled, even though Ruby couldn't see it. 

And Glynda continued stroking Ruby's hair, cooing gentle praises in her ear, as Ruby slowly drifted into something resembling sleep. (Two weeks ago, Ruby had insisted that psychopomps didn't need to sleep, but it looked for all purposes as if the eldritch being had fallen asleep, on Glynda's lap.) Glynda soaked in the peaceful image of Ruby's sleeping frame; the contours of her porcelain face,  the way her hair fell around Glynda's legs, the faint aura of rose-tinged aether, the curve of her eyelashes around eyes shut tight in bliss. She was very beautiful.

 

 

 

Eventually, the clock struck midnight. Also, Glynda's legs had fallen asleep. She woke Ruby as gently as she could. 

Ruby blinked awake, and then she shot up. "Oh!" Ruby squeaked, "S-sorry, I lost track of time-"

"It's fine," Glynda waved the air. She smiled. "It was nice. I enjoyed it." 

Ruby laughed, nervously, and she rubbed the back of her head. "So-so, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then? For- you know, lunch and contracts and stuff...." 

Glynda kept her smile. "Yeah. I look forward to it," she said.

"So, do you want me to prepare your bed for you?" 

"I- sure, if you want to do that one last time," Glynda said. 

So she did; Ruby made Glynda's bed and fluffed her pillow and waited on her mistress to head to sleep. 

"Goodnight, Ruby." Glynda shot one last smile to her familiar.

Ruby bowed. "Goodnight, mistress," She said, and she left.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the first one to imagine mythological_figure!Yang as a golden dragon; Shout out to the exelent (albiet not my OTP) fic [ The Princess and the Dragon ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3760732/chapters/8350405) by DinasEmrys. There aren possibly some others dragon!Yang AUS as well. In this fic, I picture Yang as an Asian-style serpentine, wingless dragon.
> 
> Rakshasa are an indian mythological creature. They are anthropomirpic cat-demons with thier hands on backwards. Blake is also nonbinary, here.
> 
> Jotun are Norse Ice Giants. I imagine Weiss as less 'massive brute' and more like Loki in the MCU.


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